Apparently after a lifetime of bullying, it still hadn’t set in - his last name was Weiner. Pronounced like the appendage rather than someone who didn’t get his way, New York politician Anthony Weiner might as well have grown up Anthony Penis, Tony Dong, or Antone Tallywhacker. Repeatedly being called a weiner day after day, even by your own parents, must take domineering spot in the shaping of a young boy’s life. Surely it is a cumbersome plight when your day-to-day boyhood dream is for a common mispronunciation of your last name and the resulting half-hearted chuckle at the realization you must be an annoying complainer by birthright. It’s hard enough already being a kid, a teenager, and an adult without being called Weiner. Imagine having one as well! How could we know the effects? How could we be prepared for the results? You see, for the entirety of his days, Anthony Weiner has been thinking with his penis. Whether with his big head or with his little one, it was always, still, a weiner. And it was perhaps therefore unavoidable, inevitable, or even Destiny* that brought Anthony Weiner into the political spotlight.
As a man he was cursed by the name; as a politician, Anthony Weiner was freed by it. In a world where scandals were a la carte menu items, he could do anything he wanted. His last name wasn’t Fraud, Embezzlement, or even AcceptingUnlawfulGiftsFromLobbyists. In political circles John McCain was known as a bit of a Maverick - Weiner could go Commando. So long as it wasn’t a sex scandal, Weiner would be golden. “Keep it in your pants, Weiner”, he would say to himself during private moments in office, unsure if he was advising himself in the third person or using the man-and-time-tested tradition of nicknaming his penis with his own name. Weiner could have made an off-color remark about the voting rights of color-blind citizens. “Well, he’s an absolute weiner” the people would scoff. He could have clubbed a baby seal in the cafeteria at the offices of PETA. “What a weiner!” citizens would cry. He even could have pushed a weinermobile filled with orphans and delicious meats into a lake, an elaborate and confusing scandal indeed. Anything other than a sex scandal - anything - and ole Weiner comes out smelling like… well, a weiner**. But despite the gift of freedom the once-constricting name had given him, Anthony Weiner just couldn’t help himself; Weiner’s weiner wanted out.
Through the ‘spheres the dick pics traveled: the blogospheres, the twitterspheres, and even the geographical hemispheres. People in Australia took a slightly longer moment to be appalled as the images downloaded upside down and were then corrected with a few keyboard strokes. And in a flash Weiner’s weiner was global and his political career not even allowed to be local. “Get this Weiner out of my face!” shouted Democratic party leaders and people in front of their computers, in unison. Anthony Weiner tucked himself between his legs and went home. Well he embarrassed his wife and then went home. We thought he’d learned his lesson. We thought that was the last of Weiner’s weiner.
And then he started sending photos of a Mexican wrestler’s weiner around the ‘spheres; he made his wife trot out behind him and stand there as he apologized again. Weiner was being a real dick. But had we asked too much of the man? He’d been troubled by a name that needed no help being made fun of and then set free by it to commit any political trespasses he saw fit; save of course for one, now-seen-by-everyone small thing. But he couldn’t do it. And then he couldn’t do it again. And that’s when we all learned that Anthony Weiner was a special kind of real weiner’s weiner.
*Sexting victim and exotic dancer Destiny Cristal was unavailable for comment on her role in the sexting scandal at the time of press.
**Hot dogs have an indisputably delicious smell. This author knows of at least two florists that refer to roses as the “grilled pork” of flowers.
On Friday, Kiera Knightley accidentally committed to star in a health education PSA about menstruation, a move that sources close to Knightley say could destroy her career. The A-list actress, who normally books months of work at time on high-profile films, has signed on at scale for a one-day-shoot about women’s changing bodies. Producers were thrilled to attach the star to a regional level short film aimed at girls in 5th and 6th grade.
Many Hollywood insiders wonder how such a career gaffe could come about in the life of a highly managed celebrity. When asked for a comment, a representative for Knightley shouted “Why on earth do you think she would ever want to do the bloody thing?!”. (He could not be reached for follow-up clarification on whether he meant that in the British sense or the biological one).
The starlet tweeted later on Friday night that her “agent negotiates project offers and it has become standard policy to accept any period piece without reading it.”
This is pretty much the arc of my life in gif form.
Thanks for the opportunity to earn 5% cash back at Burger King! After $12 a month for the privilege of giving you my money (for free) so you can invest and profit from it, the $0.25 on a combo meal is much appreciated.
# of People in Van - What’s Going On
1 = Pedophile
2 = Kidnappers
3 = Band
4 = Family
5+ = Cult
Just a Roman centurion talking to his agent on the phone during a commercial for the big game.
To Whom It May Concern (Bruce Wayne, Batman, or Alfred. I don’t know who opens the mail up there.)
My name is Stan Perkins and I live in Brooklyn, or .4 miles from Gotham City. It’s actually a part of Gotham City, or a borough, but most tourists and casual visitors don’t know that. The reason for my letter is concern and anger. Let me start with concern.
While you’re busy vanquishing white collar criminals dressed like Times Square performers and meditating on the side of buildings, things are pretty rough over here. I’m pretty sure there’s a rapist in my neighborhood because I saw a sign posted near my stop for the 7 train. My Nana got mugged last Tuesday for a loaf of banana bread and she doesn’t even make good banana bread. My friend Mark Mansfield had his bike stolen by some of the 7th graders. I know that’s probably an item to take up with Vice Principal Gunderson, but crime is crime. I know you can see us over here, Batman. I know you know there are bridges and tunnels. I have no idea what the operating cost on that flying Batmobile thing is per sortie but for a $2.85 Metrocard you could be over here in like 12 minutes. I can literally see you from my front stoop. No Sarah Palin hogwash, I’ve seen you with my own eyes from my house. I think we made eye contact for a second and then you looked away quickly like you didn’t see me and just happened to be looking east for a different, non-Batman reason. I do the same thing to Jenny Thompson every day in math.
Now to my anger: what’s the deal with all these crazy villains coming to town? I mean seriously. If the Olympics are on TV, I know we’re about due for another crazy person to attack our fair city. It’s like clockwork. Are you the one drawing them here? I know the economy is tough and everyone needs job security, but this feels unrealistic. Remember when that Bane guy blew up the bridges that lead out of Gotham? I took the Verrazano with my family and we were at the shore an hour later. He didn’t notice us either. It just seems weird to me that not one of them ever wants to terrorize Cleveland once in a while. Or what about Kansas City? Either one of them. Also, what’s with the voice? If bats had a voice, it would be a high-pitched shriek to navigate the darkness; none of this breathy-Marilyn-Monroe-transvestite stuff.
I’m sorry. That was mean. As I wrote it I knew I should take it back.
I’m only saying that maybe you should pay attention to some of the other boroughs once in a while, or move to another city altogether - you NEVER hear about these kinds of problems in other cities. Never.
Thanks for literally nothing,
P.S. - Could you autograph and send me one of your inconceivably vain action figures? Please don’t take it out of the box.